


soothe me

by anth (antheeia)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Human Trafficking Mention, M/M, POV Character is a huge jerk, Pining, Power Imbalance, Seduction, large age difference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-06-22 10:39:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19665760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antheeia/pseuds/anth
Summary: Nikhil Kishan Rao, billionaire, third most desirable Indian bachelor and lover extraordinaire, decides to buy himself a young boy to spoil.





	1. a little sugar in my bowl

**Author's Note:**

  * For [outruntheavalanche](https://archiveofourown.org/users/outruntheavalanche/gifts).



The biggest problem was not, as some might have insinuated, a lack of charm or attractiveness on his part: for a man approaching his forties, Nikhil was still undeniably handsome, and where beauty didn’t get him, money did.

He was particularly proud of his black hair, still untouched by the grey of time. Together with his good-looking face and his athletic build, it earned him the title of third most desirable Indian bachelor. (He knew his two forerunners: the one who placed second wasn’t even that good in bed; the first ranked wasn’t any fun in general.)

No, his problem was definitely neither his looks nor his character. His problem was much more serious and quite insidious: a lack of time.

Since the death of his father, Nikhil Kishan Rao had been tasked with the administration of the family company, which, if you asked him, was the biggest tragedy since his first day of work.

There wasn’t much time for extemporaneous visits to the most expensive bars in Soho. There wasn’t much time to entertain himself with their occasional and less occasional patrons, to charm or seduce them. There wasn’t much time to be in London in general, not when the company required his presence for all sorts of economic and legal decisions — decisions to be examined and taken peremptorily in person, in Mumbai, in compliance with suggestions and recommendations from the rest of the Board of Administration (a group of boring old men, like Nikhil’s father had been).

His planned pleasure trips to London kept getting postponed by the umpteenth conflict breaking out in some small forgotten ditch of the world, just in time to need his company’s weapons and services during the weekend.

No one cared about those poor barkeepers in Soho left without his generous tips. Or about those freckled young Brits missing out on the night of their lives.

Sure, Nikhil tried to give a chance to the embryonic scene of India’s gay capital, but he was much more of a public figure there, and his potential quarries were substantially fewer and much less open-minded about their pursuits. Besides, the beer sucked.

That whole sum of unfortunate circumstances was what led him, after setting his personal record of a week without bedding anyone, to get himself a young tasty treat. (After all, what did he have money for if he didn’t use it to get what he wanted?)

When the idea first came to his mind, he was half immersed in his jacuzzi, his limbs delighting in the hard-earned massage of the warm water. The steamy air of the room all around was heavy and warm, and his lazy thoughts naturally flowed towards his unquenched arousal of the last days. 

How nice it would have been, to have a pretty guy there to enjoy the bath with him. Nikhil would offer him champagne, caress his flushed face, and kiss every corner of his smooth skin. He imagined the boy would look barely over twenty, have pearly white skin, a head red like fire, and a thin line of fair hair stretching from his navel to the milky skin of his groin. (Nikhil really liked a stark difference in complexions between him and his lovers.)

It wasn’t like he’d never had someone looking exactly like that in his bed (or tub). He was sure he could have called one of them over, if only he remembered their names, and if he hadn’t thrown away the desperate little paper scraps on which they’d hurriedly written down their contacts.

The thing was, Nikhil loathed the idea of having a boyfriend. No, more than that, he loathed the whole collection of responsibilities that came with having any type of stable relationship.

However, he thought, halfway through his fantasy of long limbs intertwined with his own, _however_ , he could find himself someone who understood that, no matter how many encores there were, their relationship ended down the drain together with the sweat and come they washed away after sex. Someone bound by a contract to do so. Under such a condition, he could have kept the same person for a while, a pretty plaything to enjoy himself with, whom he could teach to do things just as he liked them, and without going through the trouble of finding and seducing anyone.

It seemed efficient.

Of course, buying himself someone to have sex with was a shady affair, and Nikhil couldn’t actually handle it himself. (He already had too much to do for his own taste, and shady affairs couldn’t be good for his image.)

He called Elise’s number right away.

Elise was his assistant. As such, she’d seen almost every single man Nikhil had brought home in the previous years. Sometimes she woke them up after he was gone, sometimes she even drove them home. She collected the paper scraps with their contacts and kept them until she was told to throw them away. It was all (unofficially) part of her job description.

In a matter of minutes, she arrived. She came into the bathroom without batting an eye. The soft, fragrant bubbles covering the surface of the water granted Nikhil a certain level of privacy, but it wasn’t like Elise would get shocked or even surprised otherwise. She’d seen worse, and he always laughed upon remembering how, once or twice, it had taken her a clear effort to keep her usual unperturbed face.

When Nikhil told her he wanted a lover, it took her no effort to look absolutely indifferent. She seemed to understand exactly what he meant, or rather, she seemed to be expecting the request.

“How soon do you want him?” she inquired, in her southern British accent.

“A couple of days?”

“He’ll be here tomorrow.”

Nikhil smiled at her already turned back.

“Oh, and Elise?” The words stopped her in her tracks, a few steps from the door. “I don’t want to know anything about the wheres, the whoms and the hows. That’s your job.”

“Understood.”

She left quickly, although there was no hurry in her movements and, behind her tight bun of brown hair, her mind seemed to already be hard at work to bring her commitment to a successful conclusion. 

Nikhil let himself sink deeper in the water, until it reached his nape and the underside of his chin. Before leaving the tub, he finished picturing the fantasy from before. (He owed it to the nameless guy in it.)

He jacked off to it, but it didn’t really help quench his thirst.

⋆

It’s a rule of life, Nikhil had learnt, that when you really long for something, the time that separates you from it seems to stretch to the unimaginable, almost breaking into some sort of time paradox.

He had never quite realised just how unbearably long a day could be. That surely was because he’d never made a habit, before recently, of spending his days at business meetings. Important people met up, and all they did was talk and show each other diagrams. When he was lucky, a slightly more passionate discussion sparked, and he could watch two of those boring men fight over a number in a projection.

To be frank, Nikhil was almost worried that, if he wasn’t careful, he might end up becoming just like one of those strait-laced, fat old men, and start getting all heated up about numbers and figures.

Almost as a countermeasure, Nikhil’s mind kept wandering to his apartment, and more than once he missed whole minutes of conversation because he was too busy imagining how the boy’s hair would smell, how bold or shy he would act, how his mouth would taste, and how soft his inner thighs would be. At some point, he spent at least fifteen minutes debating with himself if he’d take the boy to his bedroom, to the bathroom, or if he’d just fuck him wherever he happened to find him. (He decided on the bed, to start with the classics.)

Those thoughts made all the people around him, the elegant rooms — all glass, metal and white surfaces — look even more oppressively dull.

It was a long day, and the meetings went on far longer than planned, almost cruelly so. Therefore, when Nikhil finally got back to the (honestly unfamiliar) cool of his sea-view, five-thousand-square-feet flat, it was with a thrill of repressed arousal that he welcomed the unfamiliar presence of a boy. He sat on one of the large loveseats at the far end of the room, next to the panoramic window.

Nikhil stood in the entrance, after closing the door, observing the figure from a distance. He could only see the back of the guy’s head, and his luscious, nape-length black hair. 

Nikhil shrugged, a bit disappointed. He guessed blond white guys were a rarity in the sex-trafficking business, but still mentally took note to protest with Elise. _After_ he’d finally relieved himself.

He walked up to the stranger, a boy so young-looking that he found himself doubting he was even of age. Under his wide, regular nose, full lips curved in the smallest hint of a smile, standing out on his olive skin for their slightly darker tone. His lower eyelids, slightly protruding, as if swollen from a sleepless night, drew even more attention to the big, dark eyes, like juicy black cherries, that skidded around and away from Nikhil.

“Good evening,” the boy bleated, for lack of a more elegant word to describe his weak but high-pitched tone of voice.

Nikhil raised a single eyebrow, and added another complaint to what he concluded would be a list he’d email to Elise once he was out of the shower.

“My name’s Suman,” added the boy, fidgeting with his fingers. His hesitation and his clumsy accent made it pretty obvious that it was a lie, and the list got longer.

“Mine’s Nikhil, but I’m sure you know that.”

The boy nodded unconvincingly. Nikhil could feel his own enthusiasm decrease steadily.

Sure, Suman- _or-whatever-his-name-was_ was a snack, with a slender body barely hidden under simple clothes, and smooth young skin that just begged to be kissed by something other than the sun. He wasn’t exactly Nikhil’s type, but if only he had looked even remotely willing to get it on, Nikhil would have been all over him.

“Look, boy — _Suman_ , or whatever — I’ve had a stressful day and I’d like to skip the formalities, or whatever _this_ is.” Nikhil took off the jacket of his suit and hung it over the seatback of the couch, then sank down in one of the armchairs with a sigh. He put his head in his hands and stared at Suman or, more precisely, at his lack of a reaction.

“You know what you’re here for, don’t you?”

Suman finally raised his eyes and reciprocated, however briefly, Nikhil’s gaze.

“Actually, sir, I… don’t.”

That was it.

Nikhil was out of the door before another word had the chance to leave the boy’s mouth. Fuck the email: Elise had quite a lot to answer for, and it was something that had to be settled in person.

⋆

“Elise, what exactly was unclear about my request? Did I perhaps ask for someone to babysit?”

When they stayed in Mumbai, Elise lived in a small flat in the lower floors of his same building (just like most of Nikhil’s house staff). However small, it didn’t lack basic comforts, such as air conditioning, a large kitchen, a big bathtub, and a double bed that was probably wasted on strait-laced Elise and her stubbornly closed legs.

He had flung the door open, and his almost shouted words were met with a surprised expression on Elise’s face that soon reverted back to indifference, maybe with an edge of annoyance in the arch of her eyebrows.

“Are you unhappy with the boy?”

“He’s not my type,” Nikhil rebuked before she could even finish the question. He didn’t try to hide his annoyance at being asked that question. He thought Elise of all people would know his type.

Elise was sitting at the kitchen island, stirring a cup of what smelt like cheap Darjeeling tea. Probably tasteless, undoubtedly mixed with milk. She kept stirring, slowly, without raising her gaze from the cup.

“There’s not exactly a crowd to choose from, you know? Especially not one of freckled redhead boys,” she replied after several seconds. Nikhil didn’t _know_ , of course. “He seemed like the one you’d enjoy the most.” She sounded slightly apologetic.

He let her have that one, because it might very well have been the truth. (As far as he knew, which wasn’t much, traffickers didn’t seem big on client satisfaction as much as on their own.)

“Fine, but he doesn’t even know what he’s here for,” he added, irritated by having had to surrender the previous point.

Elise stopped her stirring. “I didn’t explicitly mention it,” she admitted, “but I thought he’d been instructed already.” She shrugged and drank a sip from her sorry excuse for tea.

“Is he at least an adult?”

“Of course.” Elise raised an eyebrow as if the answer had been obvious to her. Then, her cup froze an inch from her lips. “As far as I know,” she clarified.

Nikhil gripped the edge of the kitchen island and closed his eyes for a long moment, remembering that he’d never had an assistant quite as trustworthy as Elise, and that wasn’t enough of a big deal to fire her over. If only she wasn’t so cold and unpleasant to deal with, she would be the perfect assistant.

He sighed, took a seat on the uncomfortable plastic footstool, and started massaging his temples. He leant his head on one hand and watched Elise drink her tea for a while, partly thinking about the boy waiting upstairs, locked inside the flat, partly wondering just how it was possible to drink something as disgusting as the tea Elise was so calmly tasting. He bet the milk wasn’t even fresh.

“Where did you find him?” he murmured after a while.

“ _Elise, I don’t want to know anything about the wheres, the whoms and the hows_ , _”_ she replied in a fake deep voice that was the most terrible imitation of his own Nikhil had ever heard. “I think that’s how you put it yesterday,” she explained, before getting back to her almost finished cup of tea.

“They don’t exactly have a return policy, do they?” He sighed again.

“No, Sir.” Elise stood up, putting the cup inside a sink that was already full to the brink with dirty dishware. She went back to her stool, sat in front of Nikhil and looked him in the eyes. She had an inquisitive gaze at times, and it felt as if she knew and understood much more about him than she let on. Which was absurd, if he thought about it, because it would mean she knew more about Nikhil that he himself did.

Ridiculous thought.

After a moment, Elise spoke again.

“If the only real problem is that he seems to be mistaken about his role here, that can be easily solved. Shall I debrief him?”

The image that flashed in front of Nikhil’s eyes from the recesses of his imagination was Elise, with a whiteboard and some diagrams, and the boy from before, Suman, sitting at the meeting table, listening to Elise’s version of sex-ed.

That seemed unnecessarily cruel.

“No, no, it’s fine,” he assured her. “I’ll take care of it.”

He stood, planning to finally go back to a decent house with chairs one could actually sit on. He wasn’t really satisfied, however, because he felt like, in the end, he hadn’t gotten what he wanted.

In the corridor of Elise’s flat, immersed in the dim light coming from the kitchen, a series of boxes cluttered the carpeted floor. A couple of them were open, and where he expected clothes, what he saw were documents and textbooks. He scoffed at them and kicked the box, not really managing to feel more contented.

Elise hadn’t accompanied him to the entrance. He looked back towards the kitchen: from his position he could see Elise’s back, brushed by her rarely untied hair.

“Oh, by the way, Elise,” he added, as he opened the door, “the price of the boy, I’m taking it out of your yearly bonus.” He paused for a second, thinking about it. “And if that doesn’t cover it, your salary.”

He cheerfully closed the door behind him, giving her no chance to reply. It would have been pointless, anyway, since his decision was already made. 

She wouldn’t have suffered much because of it. After all, she liked cheap tea.

⋆

Back in the penthouse Nikhil observed the boy, who seemed to have become familiar enough with the place to start looking around. It was like watching a cat get used to a new home. His big dark eyes darted around as if everything was an absolute surprise, as if he’d never seen leather sofas, smooth dark parquet, or a 100-inch TV. He walked around timidly, twisting his hands but never touching anything.

Nikhil sat on his favourite armchair (massager turned off, for now), rolled-up shirt sleeves squeezing his arms right above the elbow. His head rested on his right hand and his gaze followed the boy’s movements towards the panoramic window, where the glass wall offered an unobstructed view of the Mumbai coast.

Suman had his own arms nearly wrapped around himself, and through his thin singlet Nikhil could recognise the shape of his tensed muscles. The boy really needed to relax, or they weren’t going to get anywhere.

“Do you like the view?” Nikhil asked, keeping his voice the usual mix between soft and confident that always worked on cute young boys.

Suman turned toward the sound, briefly, and his lips hesitantly opened in what must have been a failed attempt to reply. They looked soft, and their wetness reflected the light in the room. (Nikhil had got to hand it to Elise, the boy was not a bad choice at all. Maybe she wasn’t hopeless.)

“It’s pretty,” Suman said, almost murmured, his back once again turned to Nikhil. “You can see the whole city and the ocean too.”

Nikhil got up from the armchair and crossed the space between him and the boy with deliberately slow steps.

“My flat in London is much better,” he said, standing next to Suman. Down, at least fifty storeys down, the streets bustled with life and neon lights, but Suman’s gaze only spared them a vague interest. Maybe he was too young to appreciate a healthy dose of chaos. “It has a terrace, and you can see Hyde Park from it.”

Nikhil wasn’t really contemplating the view, although he pretended to, so he didn’t miss Suman timidly looking up at him. He couldn’t help but smirk. (He had to admit, that shyness of his could be annoying, but it could be a strong point, if seen from the right angle. He probably blushed a lot and hid his face behind his hands during sex.)

“London?” Suman looked out again, undoubtedly in order to avoid Nikhil’s gaze.

“Yes,” nodded Nikhil, “until a couple of months ago, I spent most of my time in London.” His arm circled Suman’s shoulders and pulled him close, delicately. “Ever been there?”

Suman’s muscles were tense, impossibly so, and his lips opened and closed as if he was mutely gasping for air. His skin had a distinct fruity scent of body wash, underneath which hid a tantalising hint of spice. The boy simply shook his head, and kept stubbornly looking outside. (He was blushing, though, and his reddened cheeks looked almost childish.)

Maybe he would need a bit of help to relax.

Nikhil left him to stare at that boring, frankly unimpressive view, and headed into the open-space kitchen. He barely even used it, but he knew where the trolley with the whisky was. He wheeled it towards the living area and leant against the loveseat, filling the glasses.

Suman sat down on the sofa of his own accord, rubbing his hands on his thighs.

“Want a drink?” Nikhil offered, leaning against the arm of the sofa. He handed him the glass, half-filled with whisky and two cubes of ice.

“I don’t drink alcohol,” Suman declined, waving one raised hand to emphasise the refusal.

Nikhil’s hand lowered, disheartened. Maybe it would have been better to leave the matter to Elise in the first place. He took a sip from the drink, and the boy’s wandering dark gaze occasionally met his firm one. He chose to consider it a good sign.

“You’re old enough to drink, aren’t you?” Nikhil asked.

“I’m nineteen.”

 _Nineteen_. Nikhil almost laughed, delighted, and he couldn’t be sure that an elated smirk hadn’t escaped from the cage of his teeth. Of course the boy was so nervous. But, once he calmed down, Suman would definitely be worth the effort. Nikhil couldn’t remember the last time he’d squeezed a teenager’s perfect, smooth ass.

“Not even a sip?” he insisted, offering Suman the same glass he’d just drunk from.

Suman looked at the glass, then his eyes travelled up until they reached Nikhil’s face. They were warm and raw with a confused sort of animosity that seemed to paint their light purple. It might have been the lights outside.

“I don’t like alcohol.”

Nikhil downed the glass. It was a young quality of whisky, surely cheaper than the one he kept in Knightsbridge, but the vibrant, shy taste of it shared some of Suman’s appealing qualities. It danced lightly on the tongue, its creamy quality leaving the mouth wet and sweet. It was as if it was unsure of its own blend of flavours.

The boy in front of him looked tired, and even the unrelenting tension under his skin that made him feel and appear terribly stiff was starting to surrender.

“What do you like?” Nikhil asked, staring at the two cubes of ice slowly melting in the now-empty glass.

Suman didn’t reply right away.

“Sweets?” He didn’t sound really convinced, but it was better than nothing.

“Perfect.” Nikhil offered his widest, warmest smile. “We’re both tired, so what do you say we talk again tomorrow, over some sweets, and we clear up this whole situation?”

The grateful light that flashed in the bottomless dark irises of Suman’s eyes travelled down Nikhil’s back in the form of a satisfied shiver. He could already taste that spicy young skin on his tongue.

As he left Suman on the threshold of the guest room, Nikhil thought that maybe, just maybe, that extra day of wait would be worth it.

⋆

If, to Nikhil’s great dismay, Suman was nowhere near bold enough to slip into his room in the middle of the night, at least he was certainly attractive enough to slip into his dreams.

And oh, what dreams those were.

Nikhil was reasonably sure the scent he remembered breathing from Suman’s neck wasn’t much different from the real one he’d happened to catch the night before. He was also rather convinced that the boy’s back would arch in the same way, his body would be just as pliant, his ass just as firm, and his nipples just as sensitive as they were in his dream.

He hadn’t woken up that aroused and frustrated since high school.

It wasn’t all bad, of course. While under the much needed cold shower he used to wake up his brain and put his erection to sleep, Nikhil found himself thrilled at the idea of concentrating his efforts on seducing his absurdly young, unwittingly erotic new toy. He found himself looking forward to Suman’s reactions, anticipating him blushing, stammering, tensing under his touch, but also, most of all, looking forward to Suman finally melting, giving in, shivering at Nikhil’s attentions and surrendering to his kisses. He longed to see Suman slowly, inevitably falling apart, just for him.

He came out of his room refreshed, perfectly dressed and feeling significantly disheartened at the prospect of wasting all that precious time working.

As expected, Elise was waiting for him in the living room, near the dinner table. On it, a heap of cakes, chocolates, candies and snacks of all shapes and sizes occupied the whole surface.

“What do you even need all this stuff for, Nikhil?” she whispered, a threatening wrinkle crumpling the middle of her forehead.

Nikhil smiled at her, and then started inspecting the sweets, walking all around the table. Some looked completely unfamiliar, most smelled delicious. A berry cake sat in the middle of the table with a black cherry on top, and there was an Indian rice pudding he recognised from the pastry shop one block away. 

“We should leave,” Elise informed him, switching back to her professional tone of voice. “You have an appointment in one hour.” The wrinkle was still sitting on her forehead.

“Then go wake up the little princess.” Nikhil sat down on one of the table’s leather chairs and crossed his legs. “I didn’t go through all this trouble just for his enjoyment.”

“I was under the impression you disliked the boy so much you wanted to take money off my salary,” protested Elise, the wrinkles on her forehead multiplying. “What’s up with this?” She gestured at the full table, the result of a midnight email he’d sent her right before falling asleep.

“That was yesterday, this is today.” He shrugged.

Elise stood, arms crossed, right in front of him. “Fine, but we still need to leave.”

“Oh, come on, who cares?” Nikhil insisted. “Is this because I said that I’d take money off your salary? That I’d take your yearly bonus away?” He scoffed. Sometimes Elise could be really greedy; maybe that was why she bought cheap tea. “I take it back, okay? Now, let me enjoy myself.”

Elise didn’t often sigh. She sighed loudly even less, and only shortly before regaining her composure. Nikhil saw her straighten her back and move a lock of hair away from her face before allowing herself a deep, loud exhale.

“I’ll postpone the appointment,” she resolved, smartphone already in hand. The muscles of her forehead were slowly relaxing. He liked her when she didn’t protest much. “But you can’t stay home today,” she warned, “or you’ll have to work tomorrow.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” Nikhil glanced toward the guest room, its door still closed. Having the whole day free to spend it with the boy? That didn’t sound like a bad idea at all.

“It’s Saturday,” she said simply, as if that was supposed to have some kind of special meaning for him. Nikhil waited for her to clarify, his attention focused on the door of Suman’s room, barely distracted by the maids tidying up. If he had a complaint, it was that the house tended to be a bit crowded in the mornings.

Elise shoved the screen of her phone right in front of his face. “It’s Saturday, and you have a plane to catch,” she explained, pointing at the boarding pass on the small screen.

Nikhil pushed the phone, and her hand, out of his field of view..

“Okay, okay.” He waved her away. “But if you can move anything to next week, or possibly to never, do it.”

Elise’s affirmative reply slipped right to the back of his mind, no more than an afterthought: Suman was finally exiting his room.

He was still wearing the same clothes from the day before, singlet and shorts all crumpled, and he rubbed his eyes while still on the threshold. He had small reddened sleep lines on the right side of his face. His gaze darted around the room, and his arms wrapped around one another upon noticing the small crowd in the house. He even greeted the maids, timidly waving a slender hand. It shouldn’t have been allowed to have wrists as thin as his.

The flash of recognition passing through Suman’s eyes when their gazes met was like a sip of expensive wine, a spicy one with a nutmeg aftertaste.

Suman walked up to Nikhil not unlike a puppy, and his full, slightly chapped lips opened in a smile. “Morning,” he greeted.

There was still something stiff about his posture, especially as he seemed unaware that he could sit down on any of the chairs around the table. He stood awkwardly, shooting confused glances around the room and at the table laden with food. He gestured a greeting to Elise, who barely acknowledged him in the middle of her phone call.

Nikhil stood up, the smile widening on his face an absolutely sincere product of his feelings of satisfaction and pleasure, especially when his arms wrapped around Suman’s waist and gingerly made him sit down in front of the heap of sweets. He would have touched him everywhere, explored his whole body for a whole day starting right in that moment, but patience breeds success, and Nikhil liked success.

His face brushed against Suman’s cheek as he aligned mouth to ear, inhaling the boy’s young scent. It was better than he remembered, full and fiery, in stark contrast with the boy’s personality.

“They’re for you,” Nikhil announced, breathing the words against Suman’s ear. As he straightened his own back, Nikhil delicately closed his hands around the boy’s shoulders, feeling the tense muscles underneath stir ever so slightly as Suman shifted in his place. He couldn’t see the boy’s face but he was pretty sure it was a shiver that had just run down his spine.

“Is-” Suman hesitated, his voice a thin broken thread out of his mouth. “Is this because I said I liked sweets?”

“Let’s say I just like buying presents for people I like.” Nikhil’s voice came out as sweet as honey without him even having to make an effort.

It was only reluctantly that Nikhil broke the contact, that he stopped touching the boy and sat in front of him instead. Suman’s thin brows were furrowed, his teeth sunk into his lower lip in a subtle flash of white. 

“What are you waiting for? Take one.”

Suman raised his hand, thin fingers almost brushing against the chocolate cake, then hovering over a beignet. He seemed to examine a lot of the sweets sitting right in front of him, his eyes thinning as he leaned closer to each plate.

“Would you pick one for me?” Suman asked in the end, withdrawing his hand to cover his mouth.

“Why?” Nikhil stared at Suman, a little confused by the request.

Behind the boy, some impatient gestures from Elise informed him that his time was drawing to a close for that morning.

“It’s tastier if I know you chose it.”

When Nikhil’s gaze returned to the boy’s figure, he was caught off guard by the large smile exploding on Suman’s face, filling his cheeks so much that his eyes were hidden behind half-closed lids.

A sudden sense of emptiness flooded Nikhil’s chest and the whole path from the back of his neck to the base of his spine surged with a pleasant prickling feeling. The sole thought of having to leave such a delicious treat alone for a whole day made his heart ache.

In the end, he pointed at a random piece of cake he didn’t really look at, and he left the boy’s satisfied, sweet smile with the unspoken promise to allow no other interruption until he’d conquered those delicious lips, and every other marvelous bud of skin Suman hid under those clothes.

⋆

Once in the car, it was hard for Nikhil to keep his mind away from his own arousal, to keep his thoughts from wandering towards his empty bedroom and all the fun he could be having in it right in that moment.

He checked the plane tickets on his email account, staring at the screen with what must have been an empty gaze for a while, having a hard time concentrating. He wasn’t scheduled to leave too early.

“Buy another ticket for tomorrow. I want to bring Suman along,” he told Elise.

She nodded, but there was the shadow of something behind her usual indifference. The corners of her lips crept upwards a couple of times, until her lips curved up discreetly. She covered her mouth with one hand, trying to hide it.

“Elise,” Nikhil called, to draw her attention. “Why don’t you share with me what is it that you find so funny?”

“Nothing, sir.” She cleared her voice with a cough, tapping something on her phone. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “I was just thinking the boy really made an impression on you,” she admitted.

Nikhil sighed. He wasn’t sure he liked what she was trying to insinuate. He’d get angry, or offended, but his mind was too busy with other thoughts to pay attention to Elise’s stupid comments.

“Since you’re so worried about the impression he makes on me,” he said instead, calmly, “buy him some clothes.”

“Of course,” she replied. She was still smiling that stupid smile.

⋆

“So, would you like to come with me to the Maldives tomorrow?”

When Nikhil got back to the penthouse the sun had already set. The lights from outside projected their dim, colourful glow inside, on the furniture so carefully chosen by whoever had been in charge of decorating. (Who that was, Nikhil had no idea.)

Suman sat on a chair in a corner of the living room, staring outside, and didn’t come to greet him. At Nikhil’s question, he stiffened in his seat.

He had changed since that morning and gotten rid of the crumpled clothes. The lower part of his face was hidden in the brand new green polo shirt he was wearing now, his eyes lowered to the busy streets below them. He must have showered, because his previously messy mop of hair was now tidier, showing off his blunt cut.

When he finally turned towards Nikhil, his face was all small muscles contracted in a sad frown, and his hands squeezed the edges of the chair.

“Is that part of my duties as your sex slave?”

Nikhil’s surprise lasted two blinks, as long as it took for his eyes to go slightly wide before he absorbed the meaning of Suman’s question.

Being honest with himself, Nikhil felt a sort of relief. Seduction had never been about lies for him, because he wasn’t the type of loser who needed to lie to be liked. So, for him, Suman knowing exactly what his position was without him having to explain meant his job had just gotten simpler.

He just needed to ease the boy into his place.

“That’s very bad wording,” he sighed, pulling a chair to sit in front of Suman. He sat close enough to be at arm’s length, but didn’t touch him just yet. “Who told you that?” he murmured, gently.

Suman looked away. Big dark irises hid behind his half-closed lids as he smoothed the fabric of his beige capri pants. 

“Your house staff,” he muttered, thin voice barely audible. Then he regained a bit of confidence; he straightened his back, and there was a tiny bit of belligerence flashing in his eyes. “They didn’t seem pleased about taking care of the leftover sweets you bought for your ‘slut’.”

Suman’s frown was adorable. The way his lower lip jutted out, his furrowed eyebrows, the blood rushing to his cheeks. It made his features, the already smooth edges of his jaw, look almost childish. Nikhil got closer to him, smiling widely when he didn’t draw back.

“That’s exactly why they don’t get any presents,” Nikhil commented, allowing his earnest, soft laugh to ring freely. “That,” he added, brushing the back of his hand against Suman’s face, “and because they’re not half as pretty as you are.” 

He cupped Suman’s face in his hand, delicately. The skin was just as soft as it looked.

The boy’s eyes seemed unsure of whether they wanted to return Nikhil’s gaze or look in any other direction but his. He let out a small huff, his face turning away, shying away from the other’s touch, right when Nikhil’s thumb was about to stroke his lip.

“So you’re not denying it,” he muttered.

Nikhil sighed, his hand gingerly going back to conquer Suman’s face. He tucked a lock of hair behind the boy’s ear. “I wouldn’t put it like they did,” he explained, and he was totally honest. “What I would say,” he continued, taking Suman’s chin between his thumb and forefinger and lifting it to prevent him from hiding his face, “is that I want to offer you a deal.” Nikhil paused, not completely deliberately, captivated by the way his thumb finally sank into Suman’s lower lip. “If you entertain me, you’ll want for nothing. I’ll spoil you rotten.”

This time, Nikhil held back his satisfied laugh. More than that, he held back from tasting Suman’s lips. He didn’t want to scare him away; he didn’t want to tip the delicate balance that was the boy’s desire. He could feel his young heart beating furiously, the veins throbbing under the skin of his neck. He could smell his breath, feel a volatile hint of its taste.

He kept holding the boy’s gaze, looking into those deep eyes, observing the slightly darker pupils widening like an ink stain.

This time, Suman drew back only to direct his gaze elsewhere. He didn’t push Nikhil’s hands away. His body even leant into the touch when Nikhil squeezed his arm.

“You’re not the type of person to dwell on moral issues too much,” Suman observed.

“No, I don’t dwell on them at all.”

Suman stood still for a moment, his eyes widening slightly at that frank admission.

“Then, if that’s how things are,” he hesitated, and Nikhil seized one of his hands to prevent him from fidgeting with it again, “if all of this is true, why didn’t you just- well-”

The blood that Suman’s heart pumped so intently all rushed to his cheeks, and he sighed in frustration. His line of thought melted into silence, but Nikhil was very much convinced he knew where it was supposed to end.

He waited a moment, let Suman squeeze his hand, let him stutter unintelligible words, let him gesture and then pull back his own hands abruptly, let himself be pulled in by that expression of strained discontent.

“Why didn’t I just force myself on you?”

Suman nodded, flushing bright red again.

“Not to sound like I’m dwelling on moral issues, now.” Nikhil spoke slowly, murmured his words not more than an inch from Suman’s face. “But I don’t really enjoy forcing people to have sex.” He caught Suman staring at his lips as they moved, and couldn’t help but smile. He could feel a part of himself pulling the rest back, forcefully repeating a progressively more desperate ‘not yet’.

“You… don’t?”

If he wasn’t too busy restraining himself, Nikhil could have felt offended by the doubting tone in Suman’s voice.

“Shit, do I look like a rapist?” he joked, but Suman didn’t laugh. He seemed deep in thought.

Nikhil loosened the grip he was still holding on the boy’s hand. His eyes wandered up from that broken contact to the boy’s tense, curved shoulders. 

“Okay, look. Let’s just pretend I never asked you that.”

Suman looked up, and the words came out of him as if regurgitated violently.

“Thank you. For not taking advantage of me, and all that. And the sweets. Thank you for the sweets, too.”

That was when it came to him, when Nikhil realised, with shivering pleasure, that Suman was like a gift that he could keep unwrapping, over and over, and under each layer find a different, pleasant surprise. What he felt, right then, towards that young, innocent boy that was so involuntarily remarkable, he was sure it was the closest he’d ever come to genuine affection.

“You just didn’t seem like you really understood what was going on,” he said, playing it down. He was in a good mood, which tended to make him act humble. “There’s no deal if we don’t both agree to it. This kind of thing should be founded on honesty.”

“Oh,” Suman’s eyelashes fluttered over his downcast eyes. “In that case...”

Nikhil almost stopped him in fear that it would be unwrapping another layer too fast, but in the end he didn’t regret letting him talk one bit.

“Maybe I should mention that I’m a virgin.”

Nikhil almost choked on his own tongue. The smile on his mouth was amused surprise, and an unforeseen jolt of possessiveness shocked his guts.

That was a real nice treat he’d gotten himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, do you hate Nikhil? Don’t worry. He is a whole asshole and I hate him too. I hope he becomes impotent.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the read. If you did, head over to the next chapter for a little extra (where Nikhil doesn't become impotent but here's to hoping).


	2. a little sweetness down in my soul

Nikhil had only managed to keep his sexual frustration at bay for ten days because he could see the big picture.

The big picture was Suman, lying naked on the large bed of the beachfront villa they were staying in, bronzed skin against bright white sheets, wet black hair splayed on the pillow. Unaware of Nikhil’s presence, he rolled onto his back, arms spread out, and let out a quiet laugh.

When he heard the wet sound of Nikhil’s steps he turned, sitting up. The uneasiness crawling under his skin, the nervous tension at the edge of his smile, only reminded Nikhil of why he’d decided to wait until then, only made staring at Suman simply not acceptable anymore.

Nikhil sat on the edge of the bed. He seized the boy’s face with one hand, fingers gently squeezing his cheeks. Then he kissed him.

It wasn’t the first time. That had been several hours before, back in Mumbai, in Nikhil’s living room, one step away from the glass walls looking down over the city. That kiss had been drunk on Nikhil’s excitement, body escaping his control, tongue making its way past Suman’s lips thoughtlessly. Through the haze, the kiss’s taste had been like dipping his tongue in the cloying sweetness of ripe grape juice. Nikhil had savoured all he could of Suman’s mouth, licked his teeth, sucked on his lips and pushed their bodies together, before slowly regaining control.

The day before Suman had only reacted with a hesitant grip, fingers tightening on the hem of Nikhil’s shirt, and a shiver shaking his body right before their lips parted. But, on the king-sized bed in the peaceful room of that beautiful tropical island, Suman leaned onto Nikhil’s touch pliantly, parted those full lips of his like he’d been waiting for nothing else his whole life.

The waves crashed against thin white sand just two dozen steps from the open glass doors leading outside, and Suman tasted like the seawater he’d bathed in less than an hour before.

He accepted the kiss, even when it turned from a wet brushing of lips to an open-mouthed mess of saliva. His tongue experimentally flickered out to meet Nikhil’s halfway and his throat vibrated with a low moan when their breaths untangled.

Nikhil held Suman’s face firmly, drawing back just enough to look at his blushing face and admire the young eagerness that quivered inside his body, behind his half-lidded eyes and in the back of his throat. The vision was so sweet: that innocent yearning for experience in the arch of Suman’s back, in the blood rushing to the boy’s prick, in the unmoving chest holding hostage a breath.

“What a pretty boy you are,” Nikhil whispered, squeezing Suman’s cheeks between his fingers.

Suman’s eyes blinked wide open; his heart raced against the tight grip Nikhil kept on his face, and air finally escaped the prison of his lungs. Suman didn’t move, didn’t try to escape the grip, and when Nikhil pulled him close his whole body followed keenly.

“Do you want to be all mine, Suman?”

When his face was let free, Suman kept the momentum of the promise of a kiss that didn’t come.

Nikhil pushed him down on the soft pillows behind them, stealing an endearing discontented sound from his lips. Suman’s arms lay beside his body, gripping the thin sheets, and made no attempt to push him up.

“Answer me,” insisted Nikhil. His firm expression melted then into a smile, as he positioned his hands on the pillows, on either side of Suman’s face, and watched him take a faltering breath.

He wanted to eat him up, devour every inch of his tender skin, and couldn’t choose where to start. He waited for Suman to comply, to answer his question. As he did, he contemplated the way Suman’s unripe blood tinted his skin, flushed all those sensitive areas of his chest, made his dark nipples stand out. His eyes followed the sharp lines of Suman’s clavicles, the shallow cleft running from the sternum, down his flat stomach, to his navel: he could already imagine the wet line his tongue would trace in it.

“Yes,” Suman breathed, and it sounded as if it took all the air out of his lungs to utter that one word. He inhaled deeply. “I- I want to be all yours.”

Only then did Nikhil let himself lean down on the boy, lick the sea salt away from his body, kiss his shivering skin, taste the spicy sweetness of it, like a delicious, rare, tropical fruit.

He touched Suman’s nipples, pinched each of them between his fingers, brushed his fingertips against them, kissed their pert buds. He sucked on one of them, its taste that same lush spiciness that he was attentively getting to know from all the other parts of Suman’s body. Suman arched his back, his hips thrusting up to meet Nikhil’s erection, a short contact that extorted a moan from the boy’s throat.

“So eager,” Nikhil commented, deliciously amused. He used one firm hand on his stomach to keep Suman still. “Relax, darling.”

He kissed his way to the boy’s navel, where a thin line of dark hair blossomed, extending to the softness of his groin, around the base of his hard cock. He looked up then, delighted in the image of Suman hiding his face behind his arms.

“You’re nervous?” Nikhil asked, because his boys always had a certain warmth in their eyes when he did, and they melted much more nicely, easily, when they thought he cared. Of course, when it came to Suman, even the nervousness he hid together with his face was part of the enjoyment; Nikhil cared to savour it, for he wanted to taste him with every possible spice.

Suman denied it, his voice a choked moan, his words a blatant little white lie, a stubborn, proud thing like a jewel in the middle of his chest.

“No, huh?” Nikhil smirked. He grabbed the lube he’d prepared on the nightstand, the tube switching hands while he moved to kneel between the boy’s long legs. He pretended not to notice Suman’s lingering gaze, nervously observing his every move. 

He let a finger lazily follow the vein on the underside of Suman’s young cock. “You trust me that much?”

Suman’s nod was immediate, urgent. So much, that Nikhil was tempted to believe him.

Nikhil loved to put his face right between his boys’ legs, to breathe in their muskiest scent, to kiss their twitching hole, to press his tongue against the delicate muscles between the slit and the underside of the balls. Young boys were all soft, light skin down there, delicate and sensitive to the lightest caress, and Suman was no different. He shivered at every touch, almost violently, but when Nikhil raised his eyes to look at him, his flushed face had that surprised quality of bliss running across it. His eyebrows stood up high above closed eyelids and his mouth was left ajar to moan each moment of pleasure.

“You’ll let me do anything to you?”

Nikhil’s lubed fingers circled Suman’s soft, untainted hole. The boy shivered visibly, and that alone sent a jolt up Nikhil’s spine, made his erection twitch painfully.

“I-” Suman’s words died on his lips, turning into a surprised hiccup, as Nikhil chose that exact moment to slip the first finger just past the rim, one knuckle deep. 

Nikhil sat back to best enjoy the view as he pushed his finger deeper inside.

Suman squirmed, his arms still raised to cover his face. Behind them, he failed to choke his moans, to silence his whimpers. He used his feet, planted on the bed, to raise his hips slightly, probably unconsciously, thrusting up into nothingness.

“Ahh-” Suman tried to talk, to articulate some words. Nikhil was enraptured, fascinated by each and every confused sound the boy managed to let out. He loved when they were loud, but what he loved even more was the effort, was the boy desperately fighting to answer that question as if somehow it held such a big importance to him.

“I trust-” A loud whimper broke Suman’s sentence again. Nikhil had pushed the finger in to its last knuckle, and was twisting it. He stopped at that sound, and at the shuddering pleasure so shamelessly coursing through Suman’s body.

After a moment’s pause, Nikhil insisted on that point, brushed delicately against the small, soft gland he could feel under his fingertip.

“I trust you!” Suman yelled.

It was a lie, but such a sweet one, dribbling out of Suman’s mouth along with a thin thread of saliva. But that Suman was wonderful, that was no lie. It was so incredible that such a beautiful, talented boy had found his way into Nikhil’s hands. The promises in the boy’s words were intoxicating, burning Nikhil’s loins with violent lust; they were addicting, too, and Nikhil welcomed it all with a smile.

“With anything?”

Nikhil added a second finger, and this one slipped easily inside the boy’s now-relaxed, perky hole. Nikhil leaned down on him, his free hand pushing Suman’s arms out of the way, to see his face.

“Yes, yes!” Maybe it was the novelty of it, Suman’s inexperience, but his blissful face looked as pretty as they came, prettier than all the others Nikhil had ever seen. His mouth singing like it did was so erotic Nikhil wanted to jerk off to it. “Yes, with- Ah!- with anything!”

Nikhil couldn’t resist it, couldn’t help but kiss that loud, luscious mouth, couldn’t help but lick the thin drool at the side of Suman’s face, bite the lips, just barely shying from breaking them, suck the tongue as if it could quench his thirst. He only left it, only put an end to that chaotic, wide-mouthed clash of lips and tongues and teeth, to start kissing the boy’s neck instead.

What his mouth drew out of Suman’s lips, one kiss at a time, was a series of pleading, begging sounds. “Please,” murmured Suman, again and again, trying to hide his face behind his arm again.

Nikhil took both the boy’s wrists in a tight grip and pinned him down on the bed. “Let me see your face,” Nikhil told him, all but ordered him. Suman grunted as if he was making an impossible effort, but when Nikhil let go, he didn’t move his hands, irresistibly submissive as he was.

“Please,” he repeated, instead, dark eyes liquid with lust finally returning Nikhil’s gaze. “It’s-” he hesitated, closed his eyes again, turned his face away. “I really want it. Please put it in.”

Nikhil froze, half-convinced he could have come from that unexpectedly, awkwardly voiced request alone. He felt a surge of something halfway between happiness and lust tugging at his guts.

“What a sweet boy,” he murmured, leaning down towards Suman, “asking so nicely.” He kissed the boy’s temples, his cheeks, his jaw, as he slipped his fingers out. Suman’s frustrated moan right next to his ear made him shiver violently, the prickling feeling at the base of his spine almost painful. Sliding on a condom was almost a chore.

“I’m going to go nice and slow, okay?” he announced against Suman’s mouth, once he’d lined up his cock with the boy’s prepped, soft hole.

Suman still had his eyes closed. He nodded, out of breath, his hands grasping for something, finding the headboard and clinging to it. His nervousness, still creeping in his furrowed eyebrows, seemed almost completely overcome by arousal. Suman’s body was _so_ pliant when Nikhil lifted his legs, opened them wide, positioned them, and himself, in the best possible angle.

As promised, Nikhil pushed himself inside slowly. He felt the pressure of Suman’s walls clenching on the head of his cock, the boy’s moans reverberating through that delicate body down to the rim of its asshole. He barely resisted the urge to push himself all inside with a swift thrust.

_Nice and slow_ , he slid deeper and deeper, trying to bite back his grunts so that nothing could prevent him from hearing the delicious sounds Suman made. He went half as deep as he could, heard Suman’s whimpers, saw the tears welling up in his eyes. Then he pulled out almost completely, and did it all over again.

Each moan was so perfectly dainty, so sweet, it repaid him of all his efforts tenfold.

When he felt the back of Suman’s legs and his firm ass against his groin, his cock throbbed pleasantly.

“F-faster...”

He almost didn’t realise Suman had said something.

The boy’s untouched cock twitched, slick with precum, and his grip on the headboard turned his knuckles white. Nikhil’s lips opened in a wide smile, and he kissed Suman again, barely more than a peck on the lips.

“Didn’t catch that,” he murmured. “What did you say?”

Suman opened his eyes, his gaze hazy, a shadow in the back of his dilated pupils that made him seem as if he had no idea where he was.

“Faster,” he repeated, clenching around Nikhil’s whole length. “ _Please_.”

Nikhil brushed a lock of hair away from the boy’s face. He seized Suman’s face, fingers sinking into his flushed cheeks, forcing him to raise his chin. When Nikhil’s thumb pressed against Suman’s lower lip, the boy sucked it inside his mouth.

Nikhil felt a powerful jolt travel down his back, and didn’t really think it through when he satisfied Suman’s request. He started thrusting faster and harder, barely managing to establish a rhythm, losing himself in the act right at the end — and not regretting one bit of it.

Suman’s tongue stopped swirling around Nikhil’s thumb, went slack as he moaned loudly, as he cried out his lover’s name. So, Nikhil plunged the finger deeper into the boy’s mouth, forced it open, pressed against his tongue, against the inside of his cheeks. Suman’s brimming eyes closed with a choked moan as his tears spilled over.

Nikhil came so hard his vision faded to black.

When he could see again, a couple of seconds later, Suman’s face was melted into bliss. Half-lidded eyes, face all wet with a mix of tears and saliva, his mouth still forcefully pried open by Nikhil’s thumb, Suman panted and moaned, pleaded with his mouth full, asking Nikhil not to stop.

Nikhil, still riding the last waves of his climax, finished him off with his free hand, whispering about how much he’d deserved it.

**Author's Note:**

> As always huge, enormous thanks to my beloved beta!  
> Also big thanks to my friends who act as a support group and help me more than they think.
> 
> Writing from this guy's POV has been a wild experience, alienating at times, because he can be such an asshole and a disgusting human being that I felt personally repelled by him. But as it often is for me with characters like him, his POV might have been all that, but most of all it was super fun to write.  
> I do love to hate him, in a sense.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the fic, and you did love (to hate) him a little bit, too!


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